Jobbin

i glue a head to a carpet and wait for the bar hit to come on the radio.they say 
today,though,my intent was last night.its a fine night for a fight,democrat style,lots 
of slappin,lots of wild punches.

punch drunk love from above came on,and i knew to romance it,for i havent got a 
jingle,must be cris cringle and not ol' saint nick,for he's a catholic dick.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

Poem

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